


You Were A Thief, You Stole My Heart

by AngelWithAStory



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Character Study, Episode Related, Male-Female Friendship, Queerplatonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 04:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7876909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelWithAStory/pseuds/AngelWithAStory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was no romance between them, they both knew that. No matter what people would think if they saw them huddled together. They were the other’s comfort and the others stability.<br/>They were each other’s heart.</p>
<p>Minor spoilers for episode 65</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Were A Thief, You Stole My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> ayo queerplatonic Percy & Keyleth is under represented and I want to change that, because queerplatonic Percy & Keyleth is very _very_ important to me
> 
> also minor spoilers for ep 65 and 64 
> 
> I need to stop basing entire fics off literally 2 lines said on the show

Keyleth started it. The first night they were a group - Vox Machina before the name - Keyleth sat beside him around their campfire, handing him a bowl of broth.

The skin on his wrists and ankles were still tender and a bit raw, despite the healing potions and Pike’s care. Vex and Vax were in the nearby town, trying to swindle some shoes and maybe a jacket for him. Considering how ragged he looked and felt, the noble boy from Whitestone truly was long gone.

“You need to eat.” Keyleth said gently, waiting until Percy took the bowl and held it in his hands. It was the first warm food he’d had in _weeks_ , probably months. He let himself enjoy the warmth before he took the spoon Keyleth offered and began to eat.

He felt bad that they couldn’t go find an inn to spend the night since Ripley could well be looking for him - but Percy reminded himself that this group of people _had_ such a reputation that they seemed to want to stay wild for the night.

“Where are you from?” Keyleth asked after a long while of silence. She was watching Percy carefully. Glanced at his hands that seemed to shake constantly; his white hair and funny glasses that made him look older than he was; his vest that housed the mysterious weapons she had never seen before.

“Whitestone, originally.” Percy answered after a moment, resting the still-warm bowl on his knees. He kept his hands on it, soaking in the warmth.

“Where’s that? I’ve never heard of it.” Keyleth asked. Everything about her was unthreatening but Percy still sat with his shoulders hunched.

“It’s further north than here.” Percy said, reluctant to dwell on just how far away he was from home. At least, he _assumed_ it was still to the north.  

“Is it nice there?” Keyleth continued. Grog had already fallen asleep, snoring loudly in his bedroll, and Scanlan was on the other side of the campfire trying to chat up Pike again. Tiberius was sat near the fire, reading some thick book and occasionally glancing up at them.

They had a right to be suspicious of him, honestly. He was a stranger that was a good shot and they didn’t have a reason to trust him yet. Just like he had no reason to trust any of them, beside the fact that they hadn’t killed him. Yet.

“It was.” Percy said quietly. He blinked away some memory and placed the bowl on the earth beside his feet. “What about you?” He asked, turning his head slightly to look at Keyleth.

“Oh, I’m from the Air Ashari.” Keyleth said, happily. Her whole demeanor changed as she began to talk about the Ashari and about her life before she met this ragtag group. Percy listened politely, genuinely intrigued about her Druid lifestyle the more she talked. “-so now I’m on my Aramente, and I met these guys!”

They were quiet for a moment, contemplating. Percy stared into the fire. It had been a long time since he had felt _warm_. Months of cold and damp started to lift from his soul. He’d been saved with the promise of revenge and a better life. Percy just hoped that he didn’t fuck it up for himself.

“Hey Percy?” Keyleth asked, her voice a bit hesitant.

“Yes?” He snapped out of his thoughts and turned to look at her.

“Can I see your weapon again?” Keyleth said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“You shouldn’t have. I made it.” Percy said, unholstering his pepperbox. Keyleth’s eyes went wide as she held The List in her hands gingerly. The brief display Percy had put on against a couple of bandits that had tried to fuck with them had shown the damage he could inflict.

“You _made_ it?” Keyleth repeated, running her fingers along the cold metal. “That’s really awesome. Are you a blacksmith or something?”

Percy actually laughed at that. It wasn’t a particularly _happy_ laugh, but it was there at least. A step in the right direction.

“Nowhere near that scale. Everything I make is a lot more precise and delicate than Blacksmiths. I’m a tinker, if nothing else.” Percy admitted, watching Keyleth as she inspected the weapon.

“That’s really cool, Percy. Can you show me how it works?” Keyleth asked, looking down the sights of the gun (thankfully away from the rest of the group).

“It’s rather loud so maybe in the morning.” Percy said. “But I can talk you through the schematics.”

“Ooo, let’s do that.” Keyleth said, laying the gun across her lap and leaning forwards excitedly. Percy blinked in surprise. _No one_ was ever that enthusiastic to hear him whitter on about his inventions. He would have thought she was mocking him if not for the honest look in her eyes.

So Percy just pulled out the small sketch book from a pocket in the lining of his vest, and flipped open the well worn pages. Keyleth seemed to be fascinated with the pencilled lines and small notes detailing measurements, adjustments, materials, anything that Percy would need to refer to later. He talked her through the design of his weapon, patiently answering his questions and enjoying the curious look on her face.

That was strike one.

 

Strike two came in the form of staying up all night to write comment cards.

Percy could pretend it was Keyleth’s idea all he wanted, but at the end of the day, Percy thought of it first. He had nothing better to do anyway.

They sat in a room together, cut up pieces of parchment between them. Candles and lamps illuminated the room enough so that they could write clearly. A template card lay between them so they could copy it.

Very few words were spoken between them as they carefully wrote out card after card, laying them out into neat piles.

It was possibly the most peaceful Percy had felt in years, strangely enough.

“Hey, Percy,” Keyleth said, breaking the silence.

“Hm?”

“I’m having fun.” She said it like she was imparting a secret and that made Percy smile for some reason.

“Surprisingly, so am I.” Percy admitted, pausing only slightly in his writing.

“I’m glad.” Keyleth said, leaning over and resting her head on Percy’s shoulder. She did that a lot, Percy had found. Usually her circlet would poke him in the eye or nearly knock his glasses off. Thankfully, as they sat side-by-side in that room, Keyleth’s circlet rested on the floor by her hip.

Her writing had stopped as she leaned against Percy, not that he minded at all. Out of everyone in Vox Machina, Percy trusted Keyleth the most. It was hardly a revelation, but it was a quiet truth that Percy rarely acknowledged.

“Hey Percy?”

“Yes, Keyleth?”

“Back in Whitestone, did you have a best friend?”

Percy pondered the question for a moment. He didn’t dwell on the _happy_ memories he had of Whitestone often. They always seemed to be overshadowed with all the bad ones that spoiled it.

“Not particularly. I was never the most sociable child.” Percy admitted, the nugget of sorrow in his chest long since accepted.

“Oh.” Keyleth’s voice was quiet, but quiet in the way that someone thinking about something is quiet. “Are we best friends?” She asked finally, not leaning away. Her eyes were focused on some spot on the far wall, refusing to look towards Percy.

“I would say so.” Percy said, quietly. He spoke quietly in the way that someone telling someone a deep, hidden truth was quiet.

“Cool.” Keyleth said, though he could feel the tension in her shoulder dissipate. He huffed in a poor attempt of a laugh and returned to writing.

Keyleth lifted herself from Percy’s side and went back to writing as well. She looked significantly happier than she had.

 

Strike three happened during Grog’s second fight in the Crucible.

It started being drawn when Percy and Tiberius talked her through the purpose of betting and Percy felt something in his chest warm when Keyleth placed down five gold pieces, a proud look on her face.

He kept an eye on her during the fight, packed together close enough to practically breathe the same air. He cheered along with them and laughed as Tiberius almost fell in multiple times trying to shout encouragement to the bloody and beaten Grog. He smiled as Keyleth gripped his hands and his shoulders as she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet just from the sheer excitement that her body could barely contain.

It struck him then.

Keyleth was his _best_ friend.

This wonderful woman who had the power of life pouring from her very being had chosen _him_ ; a broken boy full of vengeance masquerading as someone who could do good in the world. In the space of little under a year, Keyleth had come to mean so much to him and Percy return the favour in kind.

They watched each other’s back. They shared space and stories and hope.

It was like he could feel the metaphysical talley being drawn as Percy clung to Keyleth’s shoulders for balance, chanting Grog’s name with the rest of them.

The third strike and Keyleth had Percy’s heart.

 

It was a strange kind of love. Not the kind that romance novels dictated. Not the kind Vax proclaimed towards Keyleth. Not quite the love between the twins, or even between Grog and Pike.

He loved Keyleth as a sister, but it ran deeper than that.

Some fabled strings of fate were tying them together but Percy just couldn’t figure out in what way. At least Keyleth felt the same way, even if it was nameless and terrifying in its anonymity.

The first night after Whitestone had been freed and the Briarwoods lay dead under the castle, Keyleth had sought him out.

She could _sense_ the change in him already. Orthax had been a blight on Percy and now it was gone, Keyleth wanted to talk to him.

Keyleth had been there when Orthax had shown itself. She had seen him become a monster right in front of her eyes. Had seen the smoke and the revenge permeate his skin. Had been there when Percy tried to take his body and his sanity back, and she had been there to witness his triumph. She had been there to see Percy get his youngest sister back, and she was the most excited for him.

Keyleth had seen him in every emotion, and she still chose him. She held his heart in his hands and she cared for it fiercely.

They talked that night. About _them_. About who they were now and who they wanted to be. They sat in the library by a lit fire, curling into the warmth. Keyleth told Percy about her confused feelings for Vax that she couldn’t figure out at that time in her life. Percy admitted to Keyleth all the fear he felt when he saw Orthax outside his body, and the relief he felt when his gun had dissolved and when his sister was herself again.

Keyleth started talking about her mother, and Percy listened. Percy talked about his lost siblings and his parents, and Keyleth listened. They clung to each other as they let themselves just _feel_.

Every bad memory they repressed, every secret they couldn’t share with the others, every fear that haunted them: they laid themselves bare that night. It was cathartic.

Keyleth slotted herself into Percy’s side and they leaned on each other as they watched the sunrise together. Their hands were twined together, simply there for reassurance.

There was no romance between them, they both knew that. No matter what people would think if they saw them huddled together. They were the other’s comfort and the others stability.

They were each other’s heart.

 

Months from then, when Dragons tried to claim the world and Vox Machina resisted on behalf of their kin, they would sit together and discuss plans. They would mourn a beloved friend and vow vengeance in the same breath, travelling continents to find the tools to do so.

“I’ve never stolen anything!” Keyleth would say, sat on a cushion in a hot continent far from home. The twins would roll their eyes and try to pry information from the locals.

“Just my heart.” Percy would tease, leaning over so only she could hear. They would look at each other for a second before they would both laugh and lean together.

It was familial. It was famili _ar._ In all their pain and misery, they made each other happy.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [queenmoggy](http://queenmoggy.tumblr.com/) on tumblr if you wanna drop by :3


End file.
